


A Day At The Fair

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [40]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:43:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When a pleasant outing has a decidedly unpleasant outcome, Peter and Caeide and Maude battle to save the lives of their other two family members.  And when that battle is won, it seems another lies just ahead.  When will Andrew win his way free of the nightmares that haunt him?  When will the underlying turmoil be resolved and give him peace?  Perhaps never, not unless he can finally accept the truth about his place at Haven.





	A Day At The Fair

It had been such a good day! Marisol had wanted to go down to Cardith to put the quilt she and Maude had spent the past few months finishing into the annual competition. Maude had been too busy with her brewing and winemaking, so Andrew volunteered to go along in her place, as no one from Haven ventured forth alone from the property itself; it wasn't even discussed, it just wasn't done, not since the Alwyn affair. They'd caught the train at 3AM and were in Cardith by mid-morning. The quilt successfully hung on the wall, where it would stay for the month-long exhibit, a good look around at the other entries to assure themselves that theirs was as good as any there, at least in their own eyes, a look through the wares of the suppliers to see if she could pick up some special extra long needles and a few of those curvey ones that were so useful for binding the edges, and Marisol was finished.

She'd seen a flyer for a stock and household fair to be held at a small arena next door, and suggested to Andrew that they might enjoy that since they had some time before catching the train back home, and he thought that sounded like fun, so off they went. They ate fair food, which was always interesting, and looked and browsed and walked to their hearts content, and returned to the station in time to find their seats and sit down in some relief. Yes, it had been a good day! 

Peter had been waiting with the cart when the train pulled in, and as usual, there were no passengers except for Mari and Andrew, and wouldn't even have stopped if they hadn't been aboard. The trip home was filled with Peter filling them in on the day's activities, since they wanted to save the telling of their day for when Maude and Caeide could have a listen as well, but that would need to wait for the morning, since it was well after supper-time; they wanted to relax with the telling. By the time Peter had put the horse and cart away, Mari and Andrew had been sat down with a hot bowl of soup and bread, and soon all had turned in for the night.

At breakfast the next morning, it was quieter than usual. Peter had made a quick trip to the orchard, to retrieve that ladder they left up there, but that he'd need to let them get to that barn storage room after breakfast. He'd just grabbed an apple on his way out, saying he'd do better when he got back. Andrew, usually so chatty, was silent and ignoring his favorite French toast that Maude had made for him special, just taking sips of hot coffee. Marisol had said little to anyone and pushed her breakfast eggs and toast around on the plate instead of eating. Caeide watched them for a bit, exchanging a puzzled look with Maude.

"Guys, are you alright? Did something happen on the trip we need to know about?" she asked them.

Mari looked up at her puzzled, eyes blinking rapidly, "what?"

"You're not eating, dear," Maude pointed out. "Did something happen to upset you?"

"No, just not feeling quite in the mood for some reason," came as a laconic reply.

"And you, Andrew? It's not like you to let your food sit," Caeide asked, and when she got no answer, just a slightly glazed look, she frowned and got up to lay her hand against his forehead.

"Maude, he's way feverish!" and she turned to do the same with Marisol. "And her too! Alright, the pair of you back upstairs," and although she got some vague complaints, she got them started back down the hall. They were only at the foot of the stairs when Marisol's knees buckled and she started to go down; only Caeide's being so close kept her from hitting the floor.

"Maude, go ring that triangle, see if we can fetch Peter. We'll need his help, I'm thinking!" as she turned to Andrew, only to see him sitting on the bottom step, forearms on his knees, head bent over limply. 

Peter heard the frantic clanging from halfway up the path, and snapped the reins to start the ambling mare on at a fast clip. Pulling up to the porch itself, he tied off the reins to the railing, leaving her within reach of the water trough, he dashed inside. "What's the problem?" only to be greeted by the sight of his household divided into two alert individuals, and two obviously very sick ones. He hastened to help Caeide as they got Marisol upstairs into her bed, and returned for Andrew, who'd had Maude sitting beside him trying to keep him upright, with not a lot of success. They got him tucked away and stood back to collect themselves.

"What happened? They seemed fine last night, if a bit overly tired from the trip." he asked.

"Haven't a clue, they both were acting off their feed at breakfast time. Think I'll check with Lewis, down in Cardith, see if there's any sickness down there, then we'll get in touch with one of our doctors, see what's to be done other than what we can do ourselves. In the meantime, no one leaves Haven, no one comes in, understand? With them both being down, this could be contagious, and we can't risk spreading it further than here." She hurried away to make those radio calls, Peter started fetching the various and sundry things Maude sent him for, and the two sufferers lay nauseous and hot and aching in their beds.

It didn't take long to get the word from Cardith. An outbreak of sudden illness had occurred, seemingly centered around an arena on the edge of the exhibition area, where a stock and household show was being held. It was considered particularly dangerous since it was obviously contagious, and since so many attending had been travelers, now spread far and wide, some of them. Symptoms were fever, vomiting, aching of the muscles, and some were developing an unproductive cough, and they were still at the early stages, so who knew what would come next. Doctors were treating the symptoms, since no one had figured out what it was yet, and might never, that being the way of some of these spot illnesses. Lewis would keep them informed.

A call to the Clan had garnered much the same, but with the offer to send a doctor if it became more than they could handle, but they didn't want to involve anyone else if possible since whoever came would be quarantined here for the duration as well. Yes, the Clan agreed, a full quarantine was required. Any supplies needed would be delivered by plane, left on the strip for them to collect. They were told, quite firmly though, if another of them took sick, they were to call for help, as there had to be enough well hands to care for the sick. The thought of them all catching whatever this was, all becoming sick, was unspoken, but in all of their minds. Caeide had a fleeting vision of Haven, burning in the evening wind, with all dead inside, and shook herself violently. {"Thoughts like that are NOT helpful!"}

The thought occurred to Maude first, "Mari, Mari dear, did you see, talk to anyone, anyone at all after you left the fair? Anyone on the train, the train man, Davie Rhys or his wife at the station?" and it was at least of some relief to get a weak, "No, we went directly to the station from the fair, it was within walking distance and already had our tickets, found our seats in an empty car, never saw a soul, and Peter picked us up, never even a light on at the station."

"Well, at least we don't have to worry about notifying anyone, or fetching Davie Rhyse and his wife up here." Andrew, poor lad, was not coherent enough for them to even ask him that question.

It was the start of a long struggle on everyone's part. Andrew and Marisol were too sick to do anything for themselves, of course, and someone had to be with each of them, or scurrying back and forth. The stock still had to be cared for, but all else, all unnecessary work came to a standstill. Milk, other than what was needed for the house, was poured into the troughs for the pigs, since no one could spare the time to start new cheeses. One section of the garden, greens just coming ready for harvest, was left to go to seed, to be plowed under later; there was not time to gather, to process the harvest.

They worked in shifts, slept in shifts as well, though for far fewer hours than they really needed to. It was Caeide who remembered the salt baths Agnera had used when Maeve had been a child and had become so sick with some mysterious illness.

"Salt is a great purifier, she always said, and she emptied one of the stock troughs and scrubbed it out, and we'd take the pony and cart to the base of the cliffs and bring back barrel after barrel of sea water, drawing it up in buckets slung out with ropes, not being able to wade out and dip it up since the sharks would come in even in that shallow water and try to grab us for a meal. Twice a day, we'd fill that trough, and Maeve would lay back in it, complaining about the feel and the smell all the while; Agnera made us empty it after each use, and scrub it out again, just to get rid of the poisons she said the seawater would leach out through her skin. We would dump the water in a leaching bed, well away from the stock or the crops. In fact, I set up two drains in the big tub when I put it in, one running to that old bed, just in case the salt baths would be needful, or was doing something where I didn't want the water to run to the grey field."

Peter spared a moment to think what she might be doing with the tub to make that necessary, but he was too tired to contemplate anything too gruesome, so he let it pass. (She did wonder about the very strange look he had on his face when she'd said that, though, her thinking more along the lines of bleaching linens and such.) They were willing to try anything by now, and so determined to make a run that afternoon down to the cliff base.

She also was the one who decided that the current arrangement could not continue.

"We need to use the deepest tub, and that's the one off my room; and we are spreading ourselves too thin, running back and forth. When we're with one, we're worrying the other will need us, and they're not strong enough or even alert enough to call when they need help, and someone has to be doing the things needed elsewhere, someone has to deal with the stock and such, and with the seawater baths, that's a great deal more labor and time involved. And we still need to get enough rest to keep going, keep decent food for us, and for them."

hey knew she was not complaining, by any means, just trying to think it through, to let them be more efficient at a time when every moment, every movement had to count.

"My room is the biggest, and it connects with the office, and the bath with the deep tub. So, how about we convert it into the sickroom? We can move my things down to the room two down from Peter, with that room interconnecting. We can leave the bed and furniture in there, I'll sleep in Peter's room til we can fit out my new quarters better, when we've time. Meanwhile, we move one of the beds from a guest room into the room, letting us have both of them together in one place. We can move a cot into the office, if there's no space left, for someone to at least catch a nap if they need to. There's that folding screen from storage we could use between, for when we need to give them privacy when we're tending them, but it would let one person at least be with both of them at once. And let's strip all the soft things from their rooms after we get them moved, hot water wash what we can, sun wash the rest, and scrub down all the rest, just in case it's something that can be carried that way."

So it was done, bit by bit, first things first. Caeide rushed to strip her things from the room, and she and Peter pulled apart one of the guest room beds, getting it all set up with fresh linens and covers, and on reflection, dismantled her big bed and moved it down the hall to the empty room, just stacking the parts and mattress against the wall, bringing in another of the smaller guest room beds to the new sickroom in order for there to be more room. On further thought, they moved out the dressing table and bench as taking up room they would need, and really, was just more thing to stumble into for the weary caretakers.

"Best not add rugs and such, doubt they'll survive the tending, and we may end up burning all we use in here in the end, so let's limit it." She'd made a point of grabbing out her lilac quilt and curtains and rugs and all that went with it; it all had too many memories attached to lose when it could be saved so easily, and went with the big bed anyway, but all just got dumped in the far room for now.

Carefully, Andrew and Marisol were lifted and moved into their new quarters, not protesting, not even too much aware of what was happening. Maude settled down with them, cool water and cloths to ease their fever, tisane to ease their persistent headaches, having a comfortable rocking chair to ease her between her duties. She looked around her, {"yes, she was right; this is much better, almost as if it was made for the purpose,"} realizing, in remembering, that it truly was made for the purpose, patterned much on Caeide's room from the pub, though on a much larger scale, made from Caeide's memory of what a sickroom needed to be, her having nursed Peter there.

Peter went to hitch the mare and load the empty barrels, to find the buckets and lengths of rope; Caeide would go with him, as he'd not been to the cove before, and the way was treacherous; she'd not wanted him trying this alone, certainly not the first time, probably never if it could be avoided; too many things could happen on that route! A stray adder on the path could mean disaster all round.

Meanwhile, she stripped the linens from the beds in Andrew and Marisol's rooms, taking them down to dump in a huge washtub beside the back porch, to deal with later. The woven rugs were a loss, she decided, and rolled them to be burned, wrapped them in a sheet and sent them down the dumbwaiter to the kitchen below, where she'd take them and dump them beside the porch. She also opened wide the windows in those two rooms, to clear the air of the smell of sickness, then rushed down the stairs, stopping only to tell Maude they were leaving and would return as soon as possible.

She'd the right of it, Peter thought as he drove the cart down the narrow path; this wasn't one you'd come along unless you needed to, narrow, twisty by design to overcome the steepness of the slope, and it seemed to take a very long time before they pulled to the rocky shore of the small inlet.

"We'll have to leave the cart here, it's too risky for the mare to bring her in any further, and we'd only be risking a broken wheel on the cart even if she suffered no injury."

That made it a rougher task, of course, them having to fill the buckets and carry them over the uneven footing, again and again, trying not to stumble and fall themselves, but eventually both barrels were full.

"We'll have to do this each day, maybe even twice a day for as long as it's needed; the weight of more barrels would be more than could be handled on that upward trek, and we certainly can't stint on the treatment if there's a chance it will help, of course," she told him, and he nodded in agreement.

"Whatever it takes, Caeide-luv," his fears matching her own, his resolve also of equal strength.

"At least we can leave the barrels in the cart at home, pull it up at the porch, just unhitch the mare and get her to the stable, hitch her up again tomorrow when we make the next trip. Then, reverse the process, from barrel to buckets, and up in the dumbwaiter from the kitchen. It's rare we've used that dumbwaiter for aught except wood for the fires, but I'm thinking we'll be blessing it before this is over!" thinking of carrying those many, many buckets of seawater through the house and up the steps!

They were aching by the time they got home and got the water unloaded, at least enough to half fill the first tub. Together, they readied Marisol and got her into the seawater bath, Maude staying beside her, placing cool cloths at her forehead and at the back of her neck. Then, draining the tub, rinsing her in fresh cool water, patting her dry, and lifting her back to bed. Again, bringing in bucket after bucket, refilling the scrubbed out tub, repeating the process with Andrew, til he was also back in place.

Peter and Caeide finally stopped to draw a shaky breath, and Maude looked at them sternly. "Now, take time to get yourselves together. Get washed up, both of you, and there's stew kept hot on the stove downstairs, though there's no bread, of course, since we've not had time for baking. But stew, and Peter, open a jar of those spiced apples and that tin of plain biscuits. You two sit down, eat, then, to bed with you for a few hours. One of you can relieve me at midnight, I'll get some sleep, then I'll take over again while you two make another trip for the seawater. If it's to help, we have to do it twice a day, like your Agnera did."

And help it did, thankfully, along with everything else they were doing. Within two days, the symptoms started to ease.

Peter found Caeide crying in the kitchen at that point, "Caeide-luv? What?" and she moved into his arms to tell him of her conversation with Lewis, down in Cardith.

"They've lost so many, Peter." And the shock he felt she could feel in the sudden stiffness of his body. "Mostly the very young and the very old, but some in their prime, as well. I told Lewis of what we tried, with the sea baths and all the rest, and he's passing that on to the doctors there, since we were successful. Who knows if they'll be willing to try, or if it will help. Part of what made it work here, I am sure, was the constant care, the sheer determination from each of us that it would work, that we wouldn't lose them like this," and she wept again, held tightly in his warm arms.

"Well, if determination and care was to make a difference, there was a plenty of it here, to be sure," he heard Maude speak up from behind him. She smiled at them both, wearily, "they are both sleeping, a natural sleep this time, fever gone. It'll take some time building up their strength, but I think the danger's past. I'm going to wash and settle down for some decent sleep for a change. I still think we need to keep an ear out for them, but I think they'll sleep easy now."

"Don't worry, Maudie, we'll listen for them," she was told, and she knew that would be the case. 

That night, all the connecting doors open, them curled together in his bed, "I never let myself think of losing them, Caeide; why didn't I think that far, that it could go so wrong?" as if ashamed, as if he'd been lacking in some way.

And she spoke gently to him, "Peter, in the camp, when on a mission, or when one of you had strayed and had to be found, when one of you was sick and had to be tended, did you waste time hanging your heads, thinking of the worst case? Or did you spend your thoughts and energy on dealing with the situation, fighting for them? It was no different now; we could have spent our time moaning and whimpering and playing what-if, or we could spend our time in helping them; there was nothing to spare for us to be doing both, you know that; we did what was most important that we do!" And he admitted the truth of that, and they settled to sleep, never deeply, always listening, but the night passed quietly, and all in the house were able to get rest.

The time came when Andrew and Marisol were well enough to go back to their own quarters, which had been scrubbed to the bone and outfitted with fresh linens and rugs and soft things; even Andrew's family quilts had been taken down from their racks on the walls, laundered, sunwashed, and rehung; they still needed help, but no longer such that someone had to be in attendance all the time, and a small bell by each bed more than sufficed to bring help when needed.

Caeide took time to clear out the linens in the shared room, scrubbing them in boiling water, hanging them in the sunshine, and airing out the room thoroughly, scrubbing the floors, the furniture, all surfaces. The sickness, well, no one knew - no name, no rhyme or reason ever having been found for the illness, even by the doctors. Peter found her there one mid-day, looking at the room thoughtfully.

"Ready to move your things back in?" he asked.

"Do you know, I think I'm not. We used this as an invalid room for you, and it worked well. We've used it for Andrew and Marisol and it worked well also." She shook her head and smiled at him, "when you returned, it came to me that I'd designed and set this room up using what I learned in tending you in London when you were so sick; all the things that helped make it easier, all the things I'd wished were in place that would have made it easier. No, I think I'll leave it as it is, fit it out nicely, but not fancy; but knowing it's there should we need it for such uses again, without having to make a rush conversion like we did this time. Perhaps moving out the two smaller beds and replacing with one slightly larger, but other than that, leaving it as it is."

He looked down at her, in thought, acknowledging the sense of that, "and you, luv? Will you stay in with me?" and she gave him a knowing laugh.

"No, most certainly not. You've a right to your own space, your privacy, where Andrew can join you as you both wish;" she gave him a small grin, "you can still join me as you wish, as you always have, you might even want a few nights with a bed to yourself, at least once in a while? Not likely, maybe, but just perhaps!" as he mock swatted at her.

"I think the room where my things ended up will do fine. It's smaller, but that doesn't matter; my bed will fit, I can get smaller pieces from our storage or find them elsewhere to fit out the rest. I'll be comfortable enough, it connects with that empty room that in turn needs only the panels loosened and refitted to connect to your room, if we choose; and I do like that about the rooms we've had, the being able to pass back and forth without using the hallway. The connecting room could be fitted as a sitting room for us, if we like, which might be convenient, or a second office, or maybe a bit of both, and will let you know you're not being . . . well let's say it will provide a bit of a buffer?"

And he laughed at what she was saying, that he and Andrew might be more comfortable than with her right next door overhearing all that went on!

"The bath that connects to it, well, it's just the shower, not the tub, which I WILL miss, but I can still use the tub in the big room, can't I now? Not quite so convenient, but then, we can't have everything! Perhaps you'll help me in the next few days, get it in order?" And he agreed, for now quite comfortable with his Caeide continuing to share his bed, though grateful for her thoughtfulness in thinking about him and Andrew and their own sharing.

"Speaking of sharing my bed for now, Caeide . . ." and her soft laughter answered the thoughts in his head, and it was there Maude tracked them down letting them know lunch was on the table.

She shook her head, "it is good to have things fall back into place, but if you can find your clothes, you might want to come to table now, while things are still hot!" and they flushed, and laughed and agreed!

Marisol came through the ordeal with no obvious ill effects, and soon was back to her usual routine. Andrew took a bit longer, probably due to the effects of his time in the camp. One thing that no one had expected was the increase in his nightmares. They'd plenty of experience with such, of course. They all had them, Caeide more than the other two women, coming from her occasional jobs mostly, and her anxiety over Peter during the war, especially with the activities of the Warrior letting her see and know things she'd never have heard from Peter or Andrew, though Maude and Marisol had their own, surely, some from the blitz of London, others from other sources. Peter had been wracked by them on his return, and only recently had they eased to become a once in a while thing. Andrew, well, he'd had nightmares during his first visit here, and it had seemed as if they had lessened greatly since his coming to live here, but now, they were back, nightly, sometimes more than once a night. Peter and Caeide together took turns gently rousing him, comforting him, but he wouldn't talk of the nightmares, seemingly couldn't remember them even, but from what he would say, cry out, they seemed to involve the team, Peter and the others.

Finally the night came when the nightmare was so deep, so harsh Caeide couldn't rouse him by herself and she called for Peter to come help. Together they held him, rocked him, whispered reassurances to him, and finally, slowly he awoke, bewildered to find them there with him. He looked at Peter as if seeing a ghost. "But . . . you died!" And he turned to Caeide, "and you did too! We all did!"

"No, luv, we're right 'ere, right beside you, just as we ought to be, see, both of us," Peter soothed him, holding him even tighter. Andrew hugged him fiercely, then turned to grab Caeide as well, hugging her so tight she thought she'd have bruises the next day.

"Want to tell us about the nightmare, Andrew? It might help," she asked. He was silent for a long time.

"We were in the barracks, the Colonel in his room, me and the guys in the big room, and I can see you, Caeide, your Wolf that is, lying down under my bunk, where the Colonel won't know you're there, cause he doesn't like it when you're there. Hockstetter comes in with one of his goons, and the Colonel comes out and asks what was going on. Hockstetter tells him, he has a choice. HE can survive, and one of his men, but the rest are going to be shot, and Hogan can decide which one lives. The Colonel doesn't even hesitate or argue or anything! He just points to you, Peter, and says, "he's mine, you can have the rest." Like none of us even matter! You try to fight, protect us all, and Caeide jumps out to help, and the rest of us too, but Hockstetter and his goon shoots you and Kinch and Louie before we can stop him, and me and Caeide are fighting the goon and kill him, and then I'm hurt and on the floor and can't get up, and then she goes after Hockstetter and kills him too, tears his throat out, and the Colonel he just stood there, through it all, not doing anything to help, nothing. And then, he picks up Hockstetter's gun and shoots Caeide, and she'd dead. He turns and looks at me and tells me, "you're too much trouble, you aren't worth keeping!" And he raises his gun and points it at me, and I know he's going to kill me too!" That's when I woke up."

They held him tight, and she asked him, "any reason you can think of this might have come up now, dear?" and from the way Andrew stilled in their arms, Peter knew that there was a reason.

"Come along then, Andrew, best tell us. We can't 'elp if we don't know."

Finally, "when I was so sick, when the fever was so . . ., I kept seeing him standing there, right over me, hearing him, over and over again, what he said when he was here, about you thinking I was so helpless, such a child, that you HAD to take care of me, me just being a burden to you. And I mean, there you were, Maude and you two, spending all that time and effort taking care of me, Marisol getting so sick because she thought I'd like that stock fair, cause that's why we went there, you know, just her trying to make me happy. Even finding you'd given up your own bedroom, like I was trying to take your place. I wasn't sure what he meant, when he said I would just be a substitute; he didn't say what for, you know, so I didn't know whether he meant I'd be a substitute for a farm hand, or for Peter with you and Maude and Marisol if Peter left, or," in a much softer voice, "if he meant I would just be a substitute for HIM with Peter if Peter stayed and we, well, got closer, you know. Now, I kinda wondered if he meant I'd be a substitute even for you with Peter, Caeide, and it was all really confusing."

Peter looked at Caeide, not knowing where to start, hoping she did. His current thought, which centered on finding Hogan and beating him til he was bloody, wasn't really helpful, he knew, but it still seemed like a really good idea. Maybe later, when he had more time.

She sighed, squirmed to get more comfortable on the bed, to get a better hold on Andrew pulling him even closer, dropping a kiss on the bent head in front of her, still damp from the sweat of the nightmare, thinking of how to even start.

"Andrew, you know how when you were really really sick to your stomach and you keep throwing up til all that was coming up was that bitter yellow gall, the bile that burns your throat and your mouth and tastes so appallingly nasty? Well, for whatever reason, Hogan has a lot of that inside him, not in his stomach, but in his mind, in his spirit. He has so much that when he's angry, when he doesn't get his own way, he just 'vomits' it up over anyone in his path. And, just like he always had the ability to find just the right things to say to manipulate people in his missions back in camp, to make them believe what he wanted them to believe, well, he seems to have the ability to find just the right things to say to cause the most pain and hurt to someone too. What he vomits up, it's bitter, and it burns, and it's pure nasty! I don't know why, maybe something that happened in the war, maybe just something that was in him and grew with time, I truly don't know."

"But I DO KNOW, just him saying something, that doesn't make it real, doesn't make it true. Yes, Marisol was trying to make you happy when she pointed out the stock fair; there wasn't any way she or you could have known about the illness about to hit! It didn't happen because you two went there; doesn't make it your fault, or hers, for that matter; it just happened while you were there; totally different thing entirely. You do things for us all the time, just because you want to make us happy; that's a good thing, not something bad! And if for some reason it goes wrong, well, that's not your fault. It's, well, it's like your bringing back a jar of jam from the market, to please Maudie, only to turn out when she opens it that it's gone sour; it doesn't mean your bringing it back was something wrong or harmful, it's just something that happened.

"Us, taking care of you, spending our time and effort? Of course we were! Well, we were taking care of Mari too, weren't we? We took care of Peter when he needed us to. And, Andrew, if it were one of us, wouldn't you have been right in there, doing everything you could, taking care of us? I know you would have been! We're a team, we're family, that's what family does, we take care of each other. It's not a burden, love, it's a privilege!"

"My giving up the bedroom, now, I really should have done that long ago; I just didn't think about it closely enough. I mean, I realized when Peter returned, so ill, needing so much care, that I'd actually designed that room on my helping tend him when he was so sick in London. I learned a lot about taking care of someone during that time, and I built all that into the designing of that room, all the way to the connecting doors between rooms, having an armchair where you could reach from it to the bed, just where everything needed to be, not having rugs on the floors, lots of things."

"You and Marisol both needing tending at the same time just made me realize that the room should be used, reserved for that purpose, that that is what I really had in mind when I put it together, I just hadn't thought it through enough to realize it. Peter was so much in my mind, it was the first room I finished here, that's why I moved in there; I had no real plans for that to be where I actually ended up, you know. When Maude and Mari came there weren't any other rooms finished, not totally, so they stayed in there with me til we had their places finished because it was big enough, and I just never re-thought any of that."

"I'm fine and happy where I am now, Andrew, and now, for the next time we need to do some tending, it's in place. And there will be a next time, and that's just a fact of life, especially on a working farm. An injury, another illness for one of us. Perhaps it'll be Reverend Miles, well, he is elderly, and he has no family, and we all love him. I expect there will come a time when he needs some tending, and I expect we'll be there for him, and the room will be there. I'm giving up nothing; we are simply putting that space to better use, the use it really should have, just as we put the alcove to better use as a room for Maude, that room off the kitchen as a stillroom." 

"And that last, about you being a substitute for someone, anyone? Oh, I want to just thump him for that bit of nonsense! Andrew, you are YOU! We value YOU, as yourself, and don't think of you as a substitute for anyone! Yes, sometimes one person can act as a 'substitute', a surrogate, for just a bit of time; like how you acted for Peter, back in the camp, remember, when you let me cry on your shoulder and you held me? But you offered that, freely, as a gift; I didn't decide to take, to substitute you for Peter, you offered as a kindness to let me pretend for just a bit. It was a momentary thing, meant to comfort me."

Here Peter reached out to stroke her hair, a tiny smile on his face, remembering the kindness she'd given him, letting him pretend for a bit, when he'd really needed to, just in order to comfort him.

"Here, all the roles you fulfill are as YOU. You are not a substitute farmhand; you are a member of a family running a working farm, as are we all. You are not a substitute for Peter, for Hogan, for me. You are YOU, and that's all we want and need you to be! That's who we LOVE, Andrew!

"We don't care what Hogan says or thinks; he's so full of that bitter gall he doesn't see clearly about a lot of things, doesn't even want or try to, and this is simply one of those things. I wish I could go back, see what he intended toward you, stop him from saying those things to you; I WOULD have, had I known what he was going to do. Please believe that!"

And her eyes were now cold and hard, and he knew she was telling him nothing but the truth. "I would do so now if I could, but I can't. He did the same with me, you know that," and his eyes grew huge, looking at her, remembering now what Kinch had told him and Louie, nodding to show he did know. And remembering that what Hogan had told her had been bitter and nasty and not at all the truth.

{"Why did I just remember that now? If he was lying when he was talking to her, why would I think he was telling the truth when he was talking to me??"}

And he listened as she continued, "and what he said to me, well, it had about as much truth in it as what he said to you, and was of as much value. Only, I think perhaps because he was your leader once, and you were all so closely dependent on each other in the camp, and on him, his words to you have more impact that his words to me. Him, his opinion of me was never important to me; that made the difference. Now, somehow, Andrew love, you need to work to make his opinion of you, his words, make, if no impact, at least less of a one; for his words are lies, bitter, nasty lies, and are of no worth." And she hugged him to her, cradling him in her arms, kissing him gently on his cheek, then, tipping his chin up and kissing him, even more gently on his lips. Peter sat, looking at the both of them, and pulled them both close in his arms.

"Don't suppose I've mentioned today just 'ow much I love both of you?" knowing full well he hadn't, not being much of a one for saying such things, no matter how true, knowing he might not bring himself to say them again anytime soon, but for now, the words were there and had to come out.

"Think you can sleep, or would you like to come across and join me," then looking at Caeide and smiling, "join us?" At the slow smile making its way onto Andrew's tired face, Peter smiled in return, and guided them back to his room, his warm bed - his two loves. And the smile left his face as he thought of his former friend and leader, who'd tried to cause such harm to these, his two loves, and it was the two of them, leaning into him, giving him comfort in return, that let him let go, at least for now, and sleep.

The next mail call included letters from Louie and Kinch, and from Hogan - one set from each of them to Peter, one set to Andrew. They sat together, looking at the unopened letters, then they looked at each other, gave a grim smile and as one, handed over the Hogan letters to Caeide.

"There you go, miss secretary. And if you decide to just burn them without reading them, that's your choice too!" Peter told her. He thought probably she wouldn't do that, that there might be something they'd need to know, some plan they needed to be aware of.

"I'll read them, loves, and see what's to do. Don't write back to the guys yet, at least don't seal the envelopes; I might have an addition." And she took the letters, along with other bits and pieces of correspondence, and made her way to the office, this time pouring a drink in advance, knowing she'd need it. She read, she thought, and she made her way to the radio.

"Vani, can you give me a new pass-through address for Peter, and one for Andrew as well? We may be cancelling their old one, or having it redirected maybe, but we'll need the new ones for sure." She waited, Vani came back and read her the new addresses. "Thanks, cousin. I'll let you know on the others later."

At supper, she handed each of them a slip of paper, "here is a new pass-through address; you'll most likely want to let Louie and Kinch know; Peter, you'll want Mavis to have this, I imagine. And of course, anyone else you want to have it, think needs it." They didn't ask about the content of those letters, they really didn't want to know.

Finally Andrew spoke up, "what about the rest? Should we have them sent here? Or just cancel the first address, like you said we could when you first gave me mine. You said if I wanted to, I could, and it would be like poof, I was simply gone, disappeared into thin air. Well, I'm ready for that," and his face was solemn, sincere. "That business with the cousins is completed, well, until the next time they come up with something, and I'm not interested in what they come up with. If there's anything left out there for them to take, let them have it. Shjean already got the rest taken care of, and none of that tracks back to me; he already told me that. The legal, the military stuff - well, people do disappear, and there's nothing they can do if they can't find you. There's no one out I need to hear from, except the guys. And, we can tell the guys the new address, but tell them NOT to give it to anyone else, can't we??" Peter and Caeide looked at each other; Maude and Marisol had sat silent through all of this.

"May I make a suggestion?" Maude asked, hesitantly. "Andrew, there may be no one you think you need to hear from; Peter, that goes for you as well; that doesn't mean it couldn't happen, some family, some friend, some bit of business you just haven't thought of. Caeide, that pass-through service, can they be forced to give up the information to any authorities?" receiving a firm shake of the head.

"No, they are in a protective status, out of Switzerland; they are under no obligation to give up anything, and truly, wouldn't even if they were under such. It would all just 'disappear' in a tragic 'accident'," and she grinned over at Andrew, "something like one of Andrew's home made explosives going off in the information storage area. It's all backed up in a different location, so other than the time needed to recreate the facility, no harm done."

"Then, can they do a bit more sorting? I mean, ones from a certain list, they just send back as 'Undeliverable', any others, those go to Shjean, to have him take a look?"

"Well, we could do that. But I'd prefer to take Shjean out of that; he and his crew have more than enough to deal with; they are dealing with things for the whole Clan, you know. How about, for now, anything from the list goes back as 'Undeliverable', anything else forwards to the NEW address, the one Andrew will be giving out, to come here, and I continue my secretarial services? How about that? We can gradually add names to the "Undeliverable" lists as needs be."

Everyone thought a bit, over fresh coffee, and decided that would indeed suit the purpose. Peter added his request that his mail be treated the same, and after breakfast, they completed their letters to the guys and added that new address, with the request it not be given out to anyone, even going so far as to specify Hogan to be included in that prohibition. Yes, it would cause questions from the guys, but they included just a brief, "I know you will understand; his monkey business has gotten a bit old," or words to that effect.

Peter would include that new address when he wrote to Mavis later that day, and both of he and Andrew sat down and made a list of people, places they just didn't feel the need to hear from anymore. Maude and Marisol could continue to use their old pass-throughs; they had no one they were trying to avoid, at least not yet, and Hogan had never had access to those. Caeide forwarded those lists, along with the request for the old pass-throughs to redirect to the new ones for anything else. By supper time, it was beginning to sink in, and a new sense of relief was starting to be felt. 

At the processing center, the instructions were given, and Vani took on the responsibility herself to deal with those two old mail drops. She didn't know the details, but still, she took a great deal of satisfaction in stamping that big blue "UNDELIVERABLE" on that small stack of letters directed to Andrew, and the one directed to Peter, the ones showing those names from the list. The others she tucked into the proper bins, redirecting to the new addresses, knowing she'd helped bring a little peace to two members of the Family and Friends list. It was things like that that made her job worthwhile.


End file.
